


The Painted Crown

by Ysavvryl



Category: Original Work
Genre: And a ninja, Art Magic, Eldritch Abomination, F/M, Fantasy, Interracial Relationship, Kidnapping, Magical Paintings, Multiple identities, Pirates, Selkie is also the Thief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 21:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14602428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ysavvryl/pseuds/Ysavvryl
Summary: He's a foreign art wizard on the brink of insanity by means of boredom.  She can steal your socks without touching your boots.  They fight eldritch abominations!





	The Painted Crown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prinzenhasserin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prinzenhasserin/gifts).



Helga’s Island was nominally an island, but in truth it was a haphazard collection of rocks and pillars that someone (presumably Helga) had managed to build a cockeyed stone fortress on top of. Around seven or eight of the rock and pillar clusters were large enough to put a number of rooms on top of. These were connected by zigzagging halls that crossed each other when needed and often had holes in them from cannon fire or weathering of the rough waters. Otto wasn’t sure of the details because he was kept in one tower and rarely brought around to other parts of the fort.

His tower was carefully climate controlled. He’d insisted on it. While the pirates had grumbled at first about following the orders of their captive, their admiral saw him as a valuable enough asset that she ordered them to follow through. They’d patched up the stone walls so the air flow was controlled, installed humidity controllers to keep the rooms at a stable environment, smoothed and painted the walls for consistency, and added better lighting so things weren’t hiding in shadows. They didn’t like coming around his ‘spickle-span hoity-toity’ tower as a result, but Otto was fine with that.

“Why do you even have one of sushi?” he grumbled as he looked over the painting he had just finished. “The rice would be hard to grow around here, but you steal everything else, so why not the rice? And then you can catch the fish and seaweed right off your ships. I shouldn’t be surprised, since this whole nation is mad.”

Setting the sushi painting on a wall that indicated he was done with it, he went to pick up the next one in the pile. It had a low quantity of magical power and the colors were graying. That was something he saw all the time, an item painting that had been drawn from too much and now couldn’t produce any more. If the paintings were given time to rest and restore themselves, they’d not go gray like this. But these paintings were seen as a commodity in Kaprist.

And the speckles, like water damage… someone had tried to recharge the painting, but had done a quick and dirty fix rather than a proper restoration. And then it had been creased from folding, right down the middle! None of this was difficult to someone with good training in magic and art, but it sure was tedious from how often he saw these problems.

Otto picked up his brush again, tapping against runes inscribed on it to alter its settings. He set the unicorn hair tip to the crease and waited briefly for the hairs to match up to the grayed colors around the cease. As the crease put a frayed divide in the weave of the magic, it had to be fixed first. Reconnect the paint and the weave, strengthened up the weakened area, and smooth it all out… done.

Now, the damage from the quick fix. He opened up a drawer in his supply box and pulled out a porcelain powder box. The smoothing sand in here was fine and delicate to the touch, so its container had to be handled carefully so that the sand didn’t puff out and become troublesome dust in the air. After getting a mask on his face, he opened the lid and lightly dipped his brush into the white sand. This had to be gently brushed against the damage marks to smooth out the ugly bumps that resulted in the weave of magic. Being careless with this fix could put holes in the painting that would take more fixes to address, but the sand was the practical way to do this fix.

And then recharging the painting. Doing that would restore the colors, which would let him know if there were any other problems with it. Otto put the smoothing sand away, then retrieved the mana powder. It sparkled as his paintbrush picked up the particles. As it was heavier than the sand, he had to keep the box of it held over the painting so that he didn’t lose any of the potent powder. Color spilled across the canvas as it was revived. Otto smoothed the energy over, making sure it was even across the whole painting. Letting it puddle would causing warping that was much worse than the speckles.

Then, it was done. He was left with a revived painting of an elegant tin of chocolates. “Must be from the admiral’s private belongings,” he said to himself.

Otto set it on the wall, but these did look more appealing than the sushi. He shifted a slider on the frame; the painting shimmered, then appeared to gain depth. Reaching a hand into the picture, he plucked out one of the chocolates, then withdrew his hand and moved the slider back over. After a moment, the painting restored the taken chocolate. He then made a note to stick on the frame, that this painting should be left to rest for an hour.

“I do miss having real food,” he said, taking the chocolate and going to slump into a chair in the corner. He could understand why people tried to use quick fixes for magical paintings; doing things the proper way was exhausting from the steady use of magic. And then the tedium of it left his mind so numb.

Numb, and he couldn’t care about being captive to this work. He used to get dreadfully homesick, leaving him unable to focus on the restorations. Then his captor would get angry with him and he’d start working again out of fear. But, now he didn’t care and everything felt as dull as the used up paintings. Otto felt like once he ate a little bit, he’d fall asleep out of not working on the paintings.

Those were bad signs, he knew it. He just couldn’t care. Using magic so much without actually stimulating his mind or emotions left him unable to feel much. Heart drought; it was about as bad of a condition as breathing in too much of the smoothing sand. Eventually he’d go mad and turn into one of those wizards who willingly shut himself up in a tower like this and cursed the lands (waters in this case) around him into a warped lair that monsters loved to appear in. And some hero would come along and kill him, not caring who he was as long as they got good loot out of the adventure.

“If I were home, they’d put me in a hospital for a year and keep a very close eye on me for five more,” Otto said, looking up at the ceiling. But that was home and Kaprist was the kind of place that would welcome a mad wizard as a change of pace.

He ended up dozing off while idly wondering what kind of sea monster would end up being drawn to him.

Some time later, he was shaken awake. “Oy, wake up you lazy lout!”

“Hmmnmmnah?” he grumbled, blearily opening his eyes while trying to banish images of giant squids and dragon sirens.

It was the ruler of the fortress, not Helga but Admiral Chantal. She had spiked pink hair like a sea anemone and decorated all of her sailing coats with spikes. “How can you be lying about when you’ve got work to do, hmm?” she demanded. “And I’ve got a bigger job for you, so off your tush.”

“All right, give me a moment,” he said, getting up unsteadily. He should go sleep in bed, but he was going to have to listen to the Admiral for a bit.

She smiled, a gleam in her eye like she’d recently been victorious and was eager to get to boasting. “This painting is the whole reason I went out and fetch you, so you have to get right on it.”

“You kidnapped me,” Otto said, pushing his long black bangs out of his face. He used to be afraid of her. Now, he thought to himself that when he did go mad, he’d start off with turning her into a sea hag.

Of course, Chantal was already off beaming about her new treasure. “Details, details, stop letting that get to you. This painting used to be kept in the castle back when Kaprist was one island, before it got shattered into thousands of pieces. This was the treasure that could have let Kaprist rule the world if its kings weren’t so daft. This is, _The Painted Crown_.”

Now that he was somewhat awake, he took a look at the large painting that was now set against an open wall. It woke him up even more as he noticed things: the weave was much more complex than the simple item paintings he saw all the time, the depth had actual room to enter the painting fully, and the age of it… well it was at least a hundred years old, maybe two hundred or even more. “It’s an actual scene painting,” he mumbled.

“It’s a vault, not a scene,” Chantal insisted. “But it’s got to be cleaned out and cleaned up to be of any use to me as a vault. Still, that’s not the important thing. Right there, in the middle of the vault,” she pointed to a bright object within the darkened scene, “that is the legendary painted crown. I want it, but the painting is trapped and the crown currently can’t be removed or even touched.  Many people have tried taking the crown since the painting got pulled out of the ruins of the castle of Kaprist. It’s not budged and a few of them died as a result. When I took ownership of _The Painted Crown_ , I tried to figure out how it was trapped in there. But no one in Kaprist knew much in-depth about magical paintings. I knew I had to get an expert to actually do anything about it, and that’s where you came in.”

“I was a graduate student,” Otto said, still looking over the painting. Damage from ocean air and sea water, some long sun exposure… oddly enough, little of the usual rough treatment from these pirates. They probably revered it too much to treat it like the others.

“But you know way more about these things than anyone else here,” the admiral said. “By the time I got you, somebody had stolen this painting from me. And it got stolen back and forth across the seas of Kaprist until finally, I managed to reclaim it as properly mine while I had you here in the fortress.”

“Uh-huh, and are you going to let others steal the painting and kidnap me again since we’re together now?” Otto asked. His initial kidnapping had been terrifying, but then these pirates kept snatching him out of each other’s hands to make use of his talents and training. It was an annoyance now since he’d have to give the new kidnappers strict instructions on how to handle his equipment because otherwise they’d have to replace it for him and it was very expensive out here to get any of it back.

“Of course not!” she insisted. “I’m putting extra golems on guard in this tower and armored guards in every hall, even those that don’t lead here. If I could, I’d put a dragon in place too since that deters most everyone from trying. You need to get this in good condition and figure out how to disarm the traps so I can claim the crown finally. And don’t you dare think of taking the crown for yourself. You belong to me as my tool and I can kick your ass easily.”

That was odd; she usually didn’t threaten him so directly. “Fine,” he said. “I will have to sleep to get to work on it properly but I’ll make it a priority.”

“Good.” Chantal then barked off orders to the grunts who’d come in with her, leaving one to pick up the paintings he’d finished with. Although, she took the chocolate one for herself to make sure it didn’t get stolen even by her underlings.

Once she was gone, letting the quiet start to settle back in, Otto went back to examining _The Painted Crown_. It wasn’t like the scenery pictures he used to adore, or even the ‘vaults’, as the pirates called them, that strove to show off treasures while keeping them secure. It was a darkened room where what lay on the shelves were vague. In the center, there was a post with a blank bust that displayed the crown itself. There was an eerie quality to the oily colors on the crown, unlike the earthy darkness that surrounded it. But there was definite power here, an incredible quality of enchantment that had to be someone’s masterwork. It was something worthy of spinning legends.

“Oy, you need this moved to another spot to work on?” the worker left behind asked. “Ahm stronger than I look, but you look as soft as butter, thin as a twig.”

He looked back to her and immediately noticed some oddities about her. Her silver-blue eyes, for one, those weren’t human. “No, something this size I’ll ask a golem to shift around if I must,” Otto said. “And don’t mess with that pile there; I haven’t worked on them and they’d be useless.”

“Ah right, ya sure?” she asked, shifting a hand to her hip. She didn’t appear to be armed, but…

Sighing, Otto asked, “You’re a thief, aren’t you?”

“Pardon?” she asked, tilting her head and shifting her curly brown hair. But that appearance couldn’t be trusted.

He was not in a mood to be dealing with this. “You’re wearing a disguise ring,” he pointed out. “I know I’m trained in magic so I can spot such things better, but I don’t see how that slipped by everyone’s notice. And you’ve got a storage enchantment too, probably on one of those bracelets, so nobody can see what you’re making off with. They’d see that, but dismiss it since you look like a fortress grunt. But with the ring, it’s pretty clear to me that you’re up to something nefarious.”

“You gonna report me or somethin’?” she asked, trying to dare him into it.

“No, I don’t care,” he replied. “But keep your hands off _The Painted Crown_. I don’t care what you do about the finished stuff you already flinched, but I haven’t even gotten started on it. Leave it at least until I’ve got the wear and tear of aging and environment off it. After all, it won’t be of any more use to you in this state than it is to the admiral.”

The thief huffed, but then shrugged. “Ah right, you got a point, cutie pie. But I could hang around and show you a good time, hmm?”

“Get out,” he said, tired of all this. Once he had her shooed off, he fetched one of the stone golems standing guard over him and had it make sure no one else touched _The Painted Crown_. Then he headed off to his bedroom to sleep off this weariness so he could start the work as refreshed as he could be.

Maybe he could let himself not care at all and summon his own dragon to keep all these pesky pirates from pestering him with their petty problems. Maybe a dragon that was all kelpy and able to breath lightning. That’d keep those seafarers far away.

* * *

That was some saucy man the admiral had working at the paintings; dark, handsome, and kind of mysterious. Lorien didn’t meet many men willing to tell her off, especially not when she started acting sweet to them. For most of them, a deep look into their eyes and just the right fit of clothing was enough to lure them into giving in to her. Others would have heard that she was a selkie and be doing their best to trick her into becoming domesticated for them. But she wasn’t a naïve sea girl anymore. The ones trying to trick her were the most fun to trick first.

This man Otto wasn’t going to fall for the obvious tricks, it seemed. But a challenge would be welcome. It was partly what she was here for. For now, she’d wait on _The Painted Crown_. She’d have it eventually, and it would be better with it fixed. Lorien headed out of the tower to continue with the tasks she had to do for her cover. On the way, she picked up a few more paintings that had been left hanging around. It was all a part of her plan.

Through one of the longer halls, she entered the warehouse area. This was also a strongly guarded area, with clay and stone golems being the favored guards. But even if they weren’t as easily fooled as thinking beings who could be confused, they weren’t as sharp as the art wizard. They saw the brown uniform of a low-ranking worker and believed that she was allowed to be here. She went to put a couple of the more useless paintings away, taking out some others to slip into her storage.

These magic paintings were a vital resource to own. Kaprist had very little land that could be used for anything. As a result, magic paintings were the best source of food they had. Artillery often came from paintings, as did many other basic supplies. Whoever controlled the paintings controlled Kaprist.

More immediately, this fortress was starting to run low on supplies. They didn’t realize it yet, but it would become clear soon. Admiral Chantal would have to account for things. While she’d get angry about it, the crews here at the fortress would easily get rallied into a mutiny. Then Lorien could reveal a few of her paintings to make the crews grateful. That and other plans would get Chantal kicked out of power. Lorien would reveal a few more and take over the fortress as the new admiral.

But just in case things didn’t go as planned (as they often did), she still intended to steal _The Painted Crown_. The food paintings were a means of control, but the crown would be an even greater means. After all, it was blessed with power that would allow one to rule the world.

Once she had that chore done, she headed out to the section with the saloon. Lorien knew she wouldn’t be paid attention to as a fort worker. But, she wasn’t looking for that now. She used the crooked nature of the halls to get alone, then tugged on the stone on her disguise ring. It looked like it had a large deep blue stone on it; said stone was merely a cover. Underneath it, there was a tiny dial. It took a tiny tool that she always kept with her magic storage bracelet. The tool turned the dial, shifting through a number of appearances she had stored within the ring’s memory. While she had to use acquired clothes and her own enchantments to build a disguise, the ring would let her use it again without taking all the time to put it together again.

She settled on the captain that Chantal believed was under her command: a tall living skeleton, wearing an oversized dark coat abundantly decorated with bones and gold chains. She also used tall boots that kept a bony clatter in her footsteps and a huge black hat that had an actual horned imp skull bolted onto it. And the imp skull had a huge black feather sticking out of it, with red tips at the top. For a finishing touch, she used a comically obvious false beard that was curly, thick, and large. Lorien loved such exuberant costumes, in part because she could get people to pay more attention to the costume than to what she was actually doing.

Moments later, she punched the swinging door to the saloon open to announce her presence. “You blasted admiral, where are you?!” she shouted.

“She ain’t here, Bonebeard,” one of the human pirates called back. “She ought to show up soon, though.”

Lorien the Bonebeard grumbled and tromped into the saloon as the usual chatter picked back up. “She better have sailing assignments soon. What’s the use of having so many crews stuck in fort when we could be out raiding the coasts?”

But as long as Bonebeard kept complaining, Chantal’s contrary ways would keep Lorien and her crew here. Once she had _The Painted Crown_ , she’d gather her crew and sail off with it. They would leave behind some customary chaos, of course. It was the least they could do as the Admiral’s guests.

Of course, it didn’t take long for people to get to boasting. It was a favorite pastime, especially when a bunch of pirates got stuck in port. The lower ranked pirates tried to use it to impress captains like her. “I spent the better part of an hour searching for amulet I knew he had, pocketing whatever little things I could to make up the wasted time. Then I found that he’d secured it by nailing it right to a sidetable in his bedroom.” The pirate laughed. “But it was a sidetable, so I just picked it right up and made off with it.”

“Bah, that’s elementary level stuff,” Lorien scoffed. The missing sidetable and various missing bits would be an obvious sign that something was up. Although, she could understand the draw of just taking what you could get. Sometimes it was irresistible, especially to those inexperienced enough to have not become more than a grunt.

“Well then what have you done?” the pirate said angered that she was dissing him.

“I’ve done much much more than you could dream of,” she claimed (which was probably most definitely true). “One time, I was hanging around a bar in a coastal town, scoping out potential marks when I heard a guy who was bragging about how he’d gotten a selkie drunk and stole her pelt, and was all set to marry her the next day. So I got him drunk, stole his clothes and the selkie pelt, then tied him up and locked him in his own basement. I went into the wedding, got married to the selkie, and zipped away with her on my ship that evening. Now how many of you can say that you’ve stolen an entire wedding?”

“Ha hah, that is quite an accomplishment captain!” one of her own crew said, one of the shark mermen. They knew the truth more than the others at this bar, but it was still a fun story to tell.

“Huh, wouldn’t have thought to do something that audacious,” the grunt said, impressed at it.

But to keep up the character of Bonebeard, she nodded and went on with the story. “Yup, she made a lovely little addition to my crew; learned real quick how to handle several different positions on the ship. Plus she was an excellent ship cook, able to make all kinds of delicious meals out of what little we had available. But that ended up being our undoing.

“Yah see, she spent time doing menial chores no one else wanted to in order to search mah ship for her pelt, cause that was the only thing tying her to me. When she found it, she made sure to fix an extra special meal for us that was super tasty, but made everybody else drowsy and quickly asleep. Then she took the pelt, put me in heavy chains, hypnotized some of the stronger fellas on the ship, and had them toss me overboard. And that’s why I say ya shouldn’t ever get married since it’s always the death of ya!”

There was an uproar of laughter from those around the table listening. “Hey, I thought you died battling your arch-nemesis Bullador in the Volcano of Pain by falling in the lava pool,” one of those around the table asked.

“I thought he died playing Drunk Poker due to a poisoned mug of beer,” one of her crew said. That sounded like a good one; she’d have to make up a story to go along with it.

“I thought he died fighting off a master ninja in a hurricane,” another said. Which was something she did have a story for.

“Who said I had to die only once?” Lorien insisted, pounding the table with her fist.

A couple of hours later, she headed back to her ship, _L_ _e Chevel_ _Terr_ _ible_ , with her crew members. She had them doing various little scams throughout the fort to make the others more unhappy with the admiral. Things were going well. Gunpowder was slowly being siphoned of to a hidden cache, cleaning supplies were being replaced with those that would leave irritating smells behind, various lies were being spread, and other little troubles started or continued.

“Have you got the crown painting?” her first mate Kelpson asked. He was a type of minotaur, a man crossed with a kelpie. As a result, he had a long thick hair that resembled seaweed.

“Not yet,” Lorien said. “Chantal has some guy who can restore magical paintings. So either it’s best to wait, or we steal the wizard with the art.”

Kelpson nodded. “Probably better to see how quick we can take the fort, since we won’t need to steal the painting and wizard then.”

“Either one would wonderfully humiliate her,” Lorien said with a smile.  It would be better to wait... but she wanted the painting now.

* * *

Repairing the surface of _The Painted Crown_ was the priority. Sun and salt air damage were best repaired with the painting on the floor, especially with how large scene paintings like this were. Once that was taken care of, it could be recharged without moving it. But for that, Otto needed more of the magic powder.

Fortunately, this was a good place to make more of the recharging powder. There was a high degree of native magic that naturally bound well to salt crystals. Shortly after getting _The Painted_ _C_ _rown_ , he collected a good amount of seawater to distill. The salt and minerals that remained needed to be purified, then set up in an arcane circle to draw power from the environment. The circle was constructed to create the recharging powder. With the native magic, it took a mere day to transmute it from being ordinary sea salt.

Of course, from there he had to dissolve it back into the distilled water, distill it again to force the magic to crystallize on its own, then separate unneeded minerals from the magic crystals, then grind up the crystals into the fine powder required for use with his paintbrush… it was a long tedious process, yes. Back home, he could simply go to a magic supply store to pick up the recharging powder itself. Otto didn’t trust any of these pirates with this kind of work, however. They’d probably refuse to do real work at all. So he preferred to do this part himself.

When he came back up with the charged salt, he found a clay golem and one of the fort workers in his work gallery with another large painting against the wall. At least, that looked like a clay golem. The aura of the supposedly non-sentient creature was signified that it was sentient and a magical creature at that.

“What are you doing here again?” Otto asked the golem.

To her credit, she made no verbal reply as part of her act. Her partner in crime was equally cool under pressure, giving him a curt reply of, “Oy, the admiral decided we should have a fake of _The Painted Crown_ so as to confuse thieves and such. We were just going to move the real one to a more secure work area for you.”

“No, keep your hand off the real one,” Otto insisted, going over and taking a glance at the two. He pointed to the one on the wall. “And that is a horrible fake; it might fool the majority of you crazy pirates, but anyone who knows anything about magical art is going to instantly see that it’s fake.”

“Uh...” the assistant scratched his head, glancing to the false golem.

“Very much like anyone who knows a thing or two about golems can see that she’s using an illusion,” he added. “You’re even using the same disguise ring, good grief. I told you not to mess with _The Painted Crown_.”

“All right, but what’s so wrong with the fake?” the false golem asked. “We made it an enchanted painting.”

He faced the fake against the wall. “Uh-huh, but it’s only a standard museum shielding. Not even enough to protect it against the endangering elements of this region that slowly erode away all the art.” He pointed to some of the dark background. “That’s just flat fill, and this paintwork is absolutely barbaric, hardly even or smooth anywhere. It’d be easier to see with eyes adjusted for dark vision, but even though the real one is mostly dark shadow, it does have depth that is visible. Here, there’s no depth at all. Basically, no skill and none of the actual magic that is involved in making scenic magic paintings.”

“Ah, so how could we make it a good fake?” the golem asked.

“C-captain,” the assistant murmured.

So his thief here was at least a pirate captain. Since he was already talking about it, Otto decided to tell them straight. “Honestly, there’s no real chance of faking a painting like this unless you can already make magical paintings on this scale. Anybody with that level of skill would decline an offer to make a fake, because why do that when you can just make a new one? I definitely wouldn’t.”

“Oh-ho, you can make new paintings like this?” the false golem asked, sounding amused.

Otto glowered at the fake. “I could if I had a proper work gallery, not this makeshift room. And better access to all the materials I need. As it is, I can only restore the artwork here.”

“Couldn’t you adapt up this fake?” the assistant asked, unsure of this but going along with it.

“No,” he said, irritated at the question. “As I just said, I don’t have the proper paints and other materials to make it look any less fake than it does now. Take this fake and go. I’ve still got a lot to work on the real thing; haven’t even gotten a chance to enter the space inside.”

“That’s too bad, we went to a lot of effort to make this fake,” the false golem said, picking up the painting. Whatever creature she really was, she had a formidable amount of magical strength to manage that. “So you think it’ll fool most crazy pirates, huh?”

“Well you’re fooling them if you’re still here,” Otto said. “It should trip them up.”

“I can think of some mischief that’ll be worth the effort,” she said, cheery at the idea.

* * *

The mischief was in fact quite simple. Lorien got the fake painting hung on a large wall when everyone else was distracted with a pool tournament in the saloon. Since he mentioned it’d be easier to see if someone was already seeing in low light, she made sure that it was spot where sunlight snuck in through little cracks and odd-shaped windows. Then she adjusted the lights so that at night, it’d still be halfway lit up. That should make the painting harder to tell as a fake.

Then, she left a note pinned to the wall beside the painting, written in big bold lettering.

‘TO ALL IN FORT: THIS IS VERY CLEARLY A FAKE MEANT TO FOOL SOME TURDS WHO WILL NOT JOIN OUR MERRY FORCES. IT IS MOST DEFINITELY NOT THE REAL THING. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO ENTER THE PAINTING. I REPEAT FOR SOME OF YOU THICK-HEADED CHUBS IN HERE, **DO NOT** ATTEMPT TO ENTER THE PAINTING! from the admiral’s assistant’

Before long, she started hearing the various grunts and bored pirates around the fort daring each other to enter the painting in the hall. There had to be a trick to it, obviously, so they thought. The real painting of The Painted Crown was well renown for being a puzzle to solve to gain the crown that would rule the world. And why declare it so openly to be a fake? It had to be a trick, they thought. It had to be the real thing.

Meanwhile, she considered how to get hold of the real painting. The practical thing to do, of course, was to keep gaining control over the fortress. She could even lock Otto in his tower to prevent Chantal from running off with him. But the painting stuck in her thoughts. In reality, it was the most valuable treasure in the whole fort, even more valuable than their ships which let them be pirates and raid the trade routes and port towns. _The Painted Crown_ could give her the whole world.

Lorien couldn’t resist it. No one else was worthy of that painting and the power it held, no one! She saw it; it should be hers. That’s how it always was, right? That’s why they were pirates at all. The treasures of the world should be theirs. No, hers. Hers alone.

She slipped away on her own as soon as she could and returned to the hall leading to Otto’s tower. This time, she chose a costume that was purely for sneaking around stealthily. Made of a rare enchanted fabric, the chameleon gear copied the colors and textures of what was around her to blend in completely. It was made up of snug pieces that covered her body from the neck down. The hood covered up most of her face, leaving her some slits to breathe and see through. If someone saw her from the front, they would see her eyes. But appearing only as a pair of floating eyes had its applications too.

Since this was made for sneaking around, it had some extra features she’d added herself. The shoes were made to soften the sound of her footsteps. And with some special grips on the hands, knees, and feet… she climbed up the wall and escaped out an empty window. Recalling the layout of the tower, Lorien continued up the outer wall and looked for a specific window. The waves crashed below her and the salty wind blew around her. She’d done climbs like this many times, sometimes in much worse conditions. In this calm weather, it was easy.

She found the window she was looking for. Thankfully, it wasn’t latched. Even in Kaprist, few people would dare to climb up to this height to break into a window. Lorien was able to open it up and slip inside, to Otto’s private room. She was surprised at how barren it was. Since he was an artist and a wizard, she’d expect that he’d have some way to spruce up the room with cosmetic magic at least. But no. There were some sketchbooks and a pencil case near the bed, a few food paintings he was allowed to keep for himself, and a pile of little treasures and trinkets set in the corner to be purposely ignored like a child in time-out.

That was weird. Lorien didn’t know anyone who didn’t love having rich decorations to arrange around the room, to show off and enjoy. In her own ship cabin, she had quite a few, including a glass-door jewelry case that showed off over three dozen of her most valuable pieces. Of course, if anyone tried stealing from her, they’d discover that she was fond of hidden puzzle locks to waste a thief’s time and disguised mouse traps to ruin their fingers. This was like he didn’t care if anyone stole these things from him.

But then compared to the painting that he was most defensive of, they were bits of glittering trash.

She had noticed before that he left the door to his room open when he was at work. As before, there was nothing to stop her from walking into his workspace from here. Otto was focused on his work, grinding something magical in a mortar. _The Painted Crown_ was still on the floor. In the darkness of the painting, the crown shone with unearthly power. It stirred her mind, making her feel bold like she could do anything. She could take anything, because she deserved it.

~yeGo i t we

grm weGes? e

ne ~ m vudes

ivede ~amlh

hevlheth rtI

t irtvi Io

That was right. She must have it.

Feeling strange, Lorien shook her head. She looked over at Otto instead. She’d only been trying to sweet talk him earlier, but he was a handsome guy. From the dark earthy brown of his skin and the ebony darkness of his hair and eyes, he was clearly from the continent to the west. There was a lot of desert there and even in areas abundant in life, the sunlight was very strong.  With her pale complexion, she’d have to take all kinds of precautions not to get horribly sun burned.

He wasn’t dressed to impress, though. He had his messily cut hair bundled up in netting, disheveled work clothes stained with various colors of his work, and old gloves on his hands. True, he was at work. But between this and most of his room, he looked like a prisoner who’d given in to a monotonous imprisoned life.

All the treasures in the time-out corner had to be gifts Chantal or others tried to give him to earn his favor. With _The Painted Crown_ being so valuable, someone who could restore its power and potentially solve its riddle like Otto was therefore more valuable than other people. And he was exceptionally good at what he did, a diamond of an art wizard compared to the bits of glass of other restorers who did quick sloppy work for high fees.

He was valuable, so she should have him.

But then, it was clear that rich gifts weren’t enough to impress him. Maybe if she gave him much better quarters, fit for a prince? But then, Lorien only had her ship and there was nowhere on _L_ _e_ _Chevel_ _Terr_ _ible_ for pampered guests. This tower could be improved, though. That would require taking over the fortress…

But she should have the painting and him now.

For a moment, she felt like something strange was going on. But Lorien quickly ignored it in favor of taking out a knife and sneaking up behind him to put the knife to his neck before he even noticed she was there. “All right, bub,” she said in a coarse tone, “you’re going to do as I tell you, got it?”

Otto completely ignored her. He completely ignored the knife at his neck and continued to grid up the crystals in the mortar, softly chanting in some kind of mystical trance. When Lorien carefully flipped the blade so she could press the flat of it to his skin without drawing blood yet, he still didn’t respond. She pulled the blade away after a second and started to flip it over when he finally said, “Please stop that.”

“Sorry,” she replied automatically, taking the knife away. Then she silently cursed herself for falling for such a trick. Still, he had to have nerves of steel to pull that off when she could have killed him in seconds.

He sighed like he’d dealt with far too much foolishness recently. “This powder is delicate stuff. Any impurities will alter its composition and power, rendering it unfit for what I need it for. Especially if it gets blood in it, that will end up with something terrible.”

Since she would rather gain his loyalty, Lorien pulled the hood of her gear down and shifted some buttons so that the shirt and pants appeared gray instead of camouflaged. This disguise had her with bright blue hair and freckles; it was a funny gag to pull on those who’d thought they’d caught a deadly serious ninja. Then she crouched down beside him. “Well if that threat won’t get to you, I’ll have to persuade you to do what I want instead.”

Otto paused to look her in the eyes, then frowned. “You again.”

She smiled brightly at him. “Me again. You’re pretty good, you know, to keep recognizing me.”

“I’ve already told you how,” he said, turning back to grinding his powder. “I don’t know what you are or what you really look like, but I know your aura signature now.”

“What, you don’t think this is my true form?” she asked, tilting her head cutely.

Otto shook his head. “You’re still using illusions.”

She watched him for a bit, but he didn’t say anything more. Odd, maybe he was just that devoted to his work. “You don’t even want to know my name, hmm?”

“No, you’d probably give me a false one,” he said.

Lorien pouted, but of course he wasn’t looking at her so it didn’t do anything at all. “Look, why don’t you help me out some? I could steal you and _The Painted Crown_. Or, I could simply steal the whole fort from the admiral, including you. Chantal is an unbearable boss, isn’t she? I’d be much better as the admiral around here.”

“I don’t care, just quit interrupting my work,” Otto said, taking a moment to examine the powder and see if it was worthy of his critical eye.

“I could redesign this whole tower for you, making it much more comfortable and suitable for your talents,” she tried.

“I don’t care,” he repeated.

Nerves and a will of steel, it seemed. Lorien then changed costumes again, to a scantily clad dancer with translucent silks and gold bands accentuating the enchanted curves on her body. This costume even had sultry make-up and glittering hair. However, she had to be very careful with this costume. She normally hid her pelt under her clothing. But since this one had nowhere to hide a whole seal pelt, she had to disguise it as a bag. When she used this form, she had to be absolutely sure to not lose track of that bag.

“Please,” she said seductively, putting her fingers on the back of his neck and drawing closer to him. “I can give you anything you desire. I can be whoever you want me to be for your pleasure, and yours alone if you so wish.”

Otto batted her hand away. When she tried to touch him again, he glared at her, not even paying attention to her suggestive attire. “You won’t give me what I want, not even being left alone to work. I can call guards on you.”

“Let’s not go that far, disrupting our time together, just us two,” she said, smiling and flicking her eyelashes in a way that melted the wills of most men.

But not Otto. “If you won’t leave, keep away and let me work in peace.”

“Well what do you want?” she asked, keeping up the sultry tones simply because they were a part of this costume too. “I might be more willing than the admiral.”

“You won’t,” he said, a tinge of emotion other than just being annoyed showing for once. He seemed dejected and depressed. “I want to go back home and be left there to live free of you all, unless you’re willing to pay proper fees for my work.”

“What could you want there that you can’t have here?” she said, feeling like he shouldn’t leave here. He had to restore _The Painted Crown_. So he had to stay here in Kaprist, where the painting belonged.

“I knew you’d reject that,” Otto said, going back to make the powder even finer grained. “If I can’t have that, then I just want real food again, not the magical stuff withdrawn from paintings. This stuff is pale imitation, often made with such poor quality in the first place that it tastes like cardboard. I don’t see how you all can stand living on it.”

“I know, it’s pretty bad,” she said honestly. Maybe another little truth would draw him to her side? “When I can, I like to have a real cook with a real pantry on my ship. I have a lot of merfolk among my crew who are happy to dive down and catch fish for us too. But while the admiral is stupidly keeping us all shut up in this fort, I haven’t had a chance to restock the pantry. If I were to take over, I’d definitely make sure we got a proper kitchen running here.”

Otto only grumbled at that. “You can make all the promises you want, but I won’t believe you until you actually do something that benefits me. And threatening to kidnap or blackmail me doesn’t mean a thing to me anymore. I’ve been through far too much of that to care anymore. I know you all won’t hurt me unless you’re monumentally stupid because I can do this work and you can’t.”

“You know, you keep impressing me the more I see of you,” Lorien said, trying once again to seduce him.

It didn’t work. Eventually, she just had to leave as he wanted and get back to undermining Chantal. Now, how was she going to fulfill his request of getting some real food?

* * *

A chime near the door let Otto know that someone was coming up the tower normally. He finished the spread of the recharging powder, then set his brush aside to wait on them. He didn’t like the disruption, but he’d rather not be talking while doing this work. Before long, Otto heard a boisterous male voice and a laughing female voice. It sounded like Chantal.

As usual, she shoved the door open. “Are you done yet?” Chantal demanded.

“No,” he said unapologetically.

The man with her laughed. Or rather, the ornately dressed skeleton that had a familiar aura signature. “How many times do I have to tell ya? Don’t be so demanding of yer underlings. They don’t want to follow a jerk; nobody does.”

“Shut up, Bonebeard,” Chantal said, albeit in a friendly manner.

“Don’t you mean bonehead?” she asked, tapping what appeared to be her exposed skull.

She sniffed. “I’m the one who’s the admiral around here, not you.”

“Well you can be admirable about it,” the skeleton thief said, then laughed heartily.

“Meeeeh,” she replied for a lack of a good retort. “Well then, art guy, when are you going to get done? I thought you said it’d be a week.”

“It’s been six days,” Otto said. “And I had to make more powder. Because of that, I haven’t been within the painting yet to see its condition there. Given a closer examination, it may be longer than that.”

“Well that’s unfortunate,” Chantal said. “I’ve been planning a big celebration to reveal the real painting to all and it would have been nice if I could have brought the crown out to prove my superiority as well.”

“I can’t guarantee that even after the fixes are done,” he said.

“I deserve it the most,” she said, sounding odd this time. “No one else deserves the world. I see the world; it should be mine.”

“Whoa, chill down there missy,” the skeleton said. “We’re here to talk about a party!”

“Well is there anything you can do to hurry things up?” Chantal asked.

“Not without doing a poor job and I won’t do that,” Otto said. “If you have a good supply of food paintings, you could leave only _The Painted Crown_ as my work.”

“Ah...” that concerned her, for some reason.

“Or if you could get me a resource about the history of this painting, that could help,” Otto said. There was an unusual power to this painting, one he didn’t recognize. That indicated that it was made either in a place or with a method he wasn’t familiar with.

“That shouldn’t be something you should worry about,” Chantal said, frowning at the idea.

“You are rarely helpful,” Otto said.

“It’s for your own good,” she said selfishly.

Meanwhile, the thief was digging in her coat pockets. “Hang on, I think I have something,” she said. After taking out some keys, a bottle opener, a shoe horn, and a hammer, she finally brought out a book with a dark gray cover. “And,” she glanced at it, but she should know what she had, “ayup, this is it! The Grim Tale of the Unfortunate Fall of Kaprist Island. That history involves _The Painted Crown_ heavily, so that should do ya.”

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the book from her.

Then she chuckled. “So then, how’s about you and I go to the big party as a date? I’ll make sure you have a good time, buddy.”

Otto was about to deny her, but then Chantal had to say, “Hang on now, he’s mine. I’ll be bringing him to my party with me.”

Even if they were taking the painting to the party, Otto didn’t want to go himself. But he was just irked enough at her claim that he didn’t want to get cornered into going to a party with her. “I don’t want to do that,” he said.

“Oh come on, you owe me,” she insisted.

“I owe nothing to my first kidnapper,” he said. “If I must go, I’d rather go with this guy. Bonebeard, right?”

“Ayup, good choice!” she said, saluting him.

“What?” Chantal asked, clenching her fists. “Why would you want to go with this bag of bones over a powerful lady like me?”

“He’s not been ungrateful and rude yet,” Otto said.

“And you see, I might be a bag of bones, but I have good bones if you know what I mean,” the thief said.

Chantal groaned while Otto sighed. “Don’t make me regret this already,” he said.

“You really won’t,” she said happily.

“I don’t see how this skeleton can steal a man over me,” Chantal said, shaking her head.

The thief shook a boney finger at her. “Hey now, I’m a hotshot at stealing. For instance,” she produced a small white article of clothing from the coat’s chest pocket, “I’ve managed to steal your socks without touching your boots.”

“Whaaaat?!” Chantal snatched the pair of socks, checked them, then shouted, “Bonebeard, you weirdo!” She ran out of the room with the socks.

Why? It was just her socks. “You’re all weirdos,” Otto grumbled.

The thief chuckled. “She has good socks but keeps forgetting to put them on. Makes me want to steal some from her laundry again.”

Once they both left, he was able to finish up the recharging process. He took a nap to recover some energy, then had the golems put the painting up on the wall for him. After making a check that his repairs were good, it was time to enter _The Painted Crown_. He flipped the switch on the frame, then put both hands on the surface. The picture rippled, allowing him to step inside.

A horrific stench overwhelmed him immediately; the magic was dense with bloodshed, death, decay, and greed. Otto immediately retreated from the painting, unable to withstand it. What was hiding in this scene? He’d examined it in great detail, not noticing anything like that. And what could he do to get rid of it?

He handed a message to one of the golems, asking Chantal if she had anyone around intelligent enough to search the darkness but unable to smell anything.

* * *

As Chantal wanted to have a good party, she had to allow the crews out to do some raiding and buying to get real food. Lorien made sure to thank her enthusiastically as Bonebeard for letting the ships sail. She then double-checked the sketchbooks in Otto’s room, finding a university emblem on one cover. As she thought, it was in Saith, the University of Port Isdale. That led her to sail to Port Isdale for the supplies. There was what the admiral had asked for, what she wanted for her own ship’s pantry, and some things to win Otto’s loyalty.

Lorien let her crew stay the night in port and relax. As much as Bonebeard’s complaints were a part of her act, the fortress of Helga’s Island was a terrible place to get stuck in for so long. She could easily act like the delay was part of Bonebeard’s absent-mindedness.

Before she took off to find her own diversion for the night, Kelpson called out to her. “Lorien, you were going to the party with that art wizard, right?”

“Yes, is that a problem?” she asked. He was an excellent first mate, but Lorien was pretty sure it was all business.

Kelpson shook his head. “It’s your business who you spend your time with. I just hope he doesn’t take control of you.”

“That’s something I need to watch from everyone,” Lorien said. “I’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” Kelpson said. “When I was scouting around, I found a clothing shop that caters to the wizards and other students of magic here. It includes formal items should you wish to bribe him.”

Formal clothes for a wizard? Lorien grinned at the idea. “Really? That’s wonderful! Where’s this place?”

The kelpie minotaur gave a rare smile at her reaction. “Follow me, I’ll show you.”

* * *

Perhaps fortunately for the thief, Chantal had sent a number of crews out to get supplies. That left a couple of actual living skeletons to be the ones to search the inside of the painting and clean up the decaying bodies inside. Once those were out, Otto could do some tricks to purify that stench. He’d never had to undo a smell this strong in a painting before, not even in one poorly made vegetable bowl where the mistakes made the produce rot. He couldn’t get it all out, but he got it down to a bearable level.

He was also able to get a list of what items were within the scene. While his divination produced a long list of things it contained, it listed mostly individual bones. There were some old coins and pieces of jewelry, rags from the bodies, a note, and a rusty dagger. And of course, the painted crown itself with the bust statue it sat on. Otto couldn’t identify who the bust was of with his painting inventory check.

Wanting to get as much of the stench out before the party, Otto kept clearing it out every couple of hours while he read the history book. It talked of how the royal family had three princes who were triplets, leading to arguments between them of who deserved to be the heir to the throne. The king and queen were indecisive on picking one of them. Then one day, the king had a vision that a sea dragon showed him a rainbow-colored crown and told him that whoever could solve the riddle of the painted crown was worthy of ruling the world. He came out of the vision and found the painting of _The Painted Crown_ hanging on the wall. He then told his children about the vision, saying that whichever of them got the crown out of the painting was worthy of ruling Kaprist.

While he was reading, someone tweaked his ear. “Hey, are you slacking off?”

“No, getting an awful smell out of the scene,” he said before looking up. “You again.”

She was dressed in her chameleon clothes again. “Me again. There was a smell in the painting?”

“And decomposing bodies,” he said. “If she wants to show it off, I’m sure she doesn’t want to deal with making all her guests and herself sick.”

“That would put a damper on things,” she agreed. Then she flipped part of his hair. “It’ll also put a damper on things if you go in looking like this. What happened here? Was the barber drunk when they did your hair?”

“My appearance doesn’t matter,” Otto said. If he had his way, he wouldn’t even be going. But it seemed either this thief or the admiral would drag him there.

“It matters a lot if you’re going with me, or rather, with Captain Bonebeard,” she said. “If you don’t care, then I’m going to cut your hair.”

“Do you have to?” he asked.

She smiled. “Yes, that’s what I decided on. And you’ll have to quit with reading for a little bit so I can do that.”

Sighing, he marked his place in the book and put it on the table. “Fine, if you must waste my time.”

“But you’ll look so dapper,” she said, happy that he was letting her. “You don’t have a good chair for this because of the back on this one, so sit on the floor for me.”

He did as she told him and tolerated her snipping his hair straight. The thief hummed as she did so, thankfully not bothering him with prattle. After a couple of minutes of this, Otto started to wonder why she was doing this. It could simply be as she said, a matter of her own pride in not wanting a date with a messy appearance. It could be a strategic move, since she had proclaimed her intention in taking over the fort, keeping him and the painting here. In either case, he was just a tool to her, just like the current admiral.

Or, maybe she actually cared about him? It was rather unlikely. In the three years he’d been here, he’d seen time and time again how insane and irrational these pirates of Kaprist were. They only cared for gaining power and treasures, and sought those things most often through violence and trickery. In fact, the early parts that he’d read of the conflict of the triplet princes sounded a lot like what these pirates did.

Even though it was unlikely, he wanted a little bit that she did this because she somehow cared about him now.

But why would she? Otto knew he’d been rude and cold with everyone lately. He could only get himself to care about working on the paintings any more. Back when he’d been studying at the university, he’d not been like that. He kept good grades through completing assignments as soon as he could instead of slacking off like some other students. But he’d had many other things he’d been interested in; he’d had several friends that he’d met up with often, a girlfriend that he’d dated for a while before breaking up with her. She’d transferred to another school and that relationship unfortunately had fallen apart then. As he was now, he didn’t think anybody would actually like him.

He also couldn’t really care about it. At least, he thought he couldn’t. But he was worrying about that now, wasn’t he? Otto was puzzled a bit. Maybe he wasn’t as far gone as he’d thought? But this wouldn’t be enough to escape this heart drought. It couldn’t be.

After fussing for a while to get his hair in good even shape, the thief smiled again. “Good, much better. I admit, it’s nothing fancy, but at least it’s neat and trim. Now, we have to talk about your outfit for the party.”

“I only have my work clothes since I’ve been yanked around in being repeatedly kidnapped,” he said.

She nodded like it was no big deal. “I figured, so I picked up a little something for you. It’s sure to make you look wonderful, I just know it! And you can trust me on this since I put together lots of outfits for all kinds of roles. Everything in my disguise ring’s memory is of my design, and I even got two more covers just to keep all those I made.”

“It’s not going to be anything crazy ornate like Bonebeard’s outfit, I hope,” Otto said.

“Not like that since I designed him to be a goof,” she said, bringing out a box with a familiar logo.

“Is this from Port Isdale?” he asked, feeling his throat tense up. It was… nostalgic, sort of. While the university he attended there didn’t have a strict dress code, the magic academy for gifted youths that he’d attended before that did require a specific uniform that this store sold. And if you wanted to be recognized on sight as being skilled in magic, that was the store to shop from.

“Yeah, it was on the sketchbook in your room over there,” the thief pointed out as she lifted the lid. “And it’s a good thing I caught that since you probably wouldn’t tell me and that store was just wonderful. Here, have a look!” She stood up to pull out a long red robe that had yellow, orange, and gold flame designs spiraling down to spread out near the bottom hem. Enchanted gold rings were attached along the bottom edge as well.

While it was impressive, he felt a bit disappointed. “I can’t wear that,” Otto said.

“Oh come on, you’d look amazing in it, and the rest of the outfit I picked out for you,” she said.

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

“What, is it some rank thing I don’t know about?” she asked, some of her confidence deflating. Which was odd given their previous meetings. “Or about the cost? Don’t worry about that, it was nothing to me.”

“No,” he said. “It’s...” his throat tensed up and he felt strangely heavy and dull. Why should he care? He didn’t even want to go to this party. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”

“It does, and I think you’ll look great in it,” the thief insisted, setting the robe back in the box sloppily. “So you’re going to wear it at the party for me. After all, I got it for you, and cut your hair, and here, I have this too.” She then brought out a cooler, strangely enough, along with another familiar box. “I got you some real food too, because when I mean to keep my word, I always do.” She then pushed the box into his hands.

Several familiar smells wafted out of it even though it was sealed up to keep fresh and hot despite having been through a sea voyage. Delicious smells, much better than what had been in the painting. “This is from Lord Cook,” he said. Although, the name was actually ‘Simply Delicious Buffet from the Lord of Cooking’, but everyone in town always called it Lord Cook.

“Yeah, that’s a place people said students frequented, so I tried it out,” she said. “The name definitely wasn’t lying, but I had to guess at what you might like. In the end, I just got a little bit of lots of things, so surely there’s something you like in there.”

“I could make two meals out of it from the weight of this,” Otto said.

“That’s a good deal then,” she said, happy again. “The cooler’s got some other stuff in it so you have your own little real food supply. I figured, since you’re a wizard, you can find your own ways to heat up some of it to cook yourself. Just be sure and hide it well! The supply of food paintings around here has dwindled for some reason.”

“That’s entirely your fault,” he said.

“So what, you gonna rat me out?” she asked, putting on an act of being defiant by putting her hands on her hips.

“No, just don’t let other people starve,” he said.

Once she’d left him alone, Otto took another look at the clothing she’d bought for him. As he suspected, it included golden bands to match the rings on the robes. These decorations were meant to react to the magic of the person wearing it. Most people would not have a developed enough aura presence to cause the rings to react, making the long robes drag on the floor. But for a trained user of magic, their aura would make the rings drift away, ensuring that the hem was always floating just above the ground. It gave the illusion that one was drifting across the floor rather than walking.

He put the arm band over his wrist, since that was usually where these things floated. But it hung right on his wrist. As he thought. The heart drought was enough that he couldn’t wear this outfit properly even though he had more than enough training to have the kind of aura that should make it work. Would that make the thief mad, or disappointed? This kind of outfit could get costly, and he suspected this was on the higher end of the scale.

But… wasn’t there a little trick to make this kind of outfit work if your own aura couldn’t power the rings? He remembered a clique of students from his academy days who were obsessed with fashion but not studious enough to make this kind of look work. They found a work around that required crystals that usually powered small devices. And, there were a few such crystals in the pile of unwanted junk that Chantal and others like her tried giving him to win his loyalty. He could make the outfit work using those in spite of his condition.

And, none of the others had gone so far as to give him a proper haircut, as well as clothes and food from his hometown.

For a moment, Otto felt like he might cry. He should. It’d be a definite sign that he wasn’t truly sick. But even when he mentally told himself to just cry already, the tears wouldn’t come.

The dullness started to return instead. It nearly broke a few more times while he ate the buffet meal the thief had brought him. But even so, he couldn’t make himself more interested in going to this party, or even figuring out the thief’s name.

* * *

As Chantal wanted to put on a big party, she invited a bunch of nobles who had no qualms partying with Kaprist pirates. That led to a lot of grumbling among the fortress workers. “We have the food for the party, but not for hosting nobles for a couple extra days,” one of them said.

“And they complain about everything,” Lorien said, back in her grunt worker disguise.

“Oy yes, it’s horrible all around for us,” her helmsman Sheila added, also disguised as a grunt worker. As she was a siren, she had to keep a vocal modifier on to not give away who she was with that distinctive voice. But that could be disguised as a choker necklace. “They think any servant can be commanded as their own.”

“Chantal can be as bad,” one of the actual workers said. “And she’ll want us to do what they ask of us. It makes me wish old Tarn was still the admiral.”

“Never thought we’d wish Tarn the Torturer back in power,” another worker said. “But Chantal will punish everyone for a mistake even if it was her fault in the first place. Tarn at least would figure out who’s fault something was and only punish them.”

“I don’t think she’s even acknowledged that we’re in trouble with the supplies,” Lorien said.

“Hey, quit gossiping and get back to work!” the warehouse supervisor shouted at them. “And we need a couple of you to deliver stuff to Lady Marisol in the port!”

“I’ll go!” Lorien called quickly.

“Me too, we’ve got it,” Sheila added.

They had to complete a few tasks so that the other workers didn’t suspect them. But more than that, they were being asked to deliver to the ship of a noblewoman. Lorien had Sheila take off her choker so she could sing a lullaby while in the presence of the noblewoman. Neither of them were affected, but the noblewoman and the crew of her ship fell asleep to Sheila’s song. And with that, they had a good two hours to raid the noblewoman’s closet.

Before long, Lorien found something exciting. “Hey, she’s got a couple of hoop skirts! I always wanted to try that kind of look.”

“It’d be terrible in the water, but it’d be fun on land,” Sheila said.

She did have empty slots on her disguise ring, so Lorien shut it off to end up as her natural self. She left herself dressed simply.  If she was using her natural form, she would use her natural small stature to act as a poor waif to take advantage of someone who might pity her. With Sheila’s help, she put on the hoop skirt structure, which had to be attached to a corset.

“I think we could pin my pelt to the hoop skirt here,” Lorien said. Due to the shape of it, her pelt should be well hidden.

“Sure, that should work,” Sheila agreed, then helped her pin it there.

That was the most important thing for her to take care of in any outfit. Now they were free to figure out which dress and pieces to put with the hoop skirt. Like any noblewoman who wanted to be fashionable, there was a lot of clothing that had been brought. Lorien was quickly drawn to a dark blue dress that was decorated with white pearls and feathers. There was even a matching bustle, which would be fun. The hoop skirt and corset meant that Sheila had to help her get some petticoats, the dress, and the bustle on.

From that point, Lorien could use enchantments to change her appearance further. She’d already made herself taller and bustier to fit in this outfit. Now she changed her hair from straight and sea foam blue to copper red and curly, done in a braided up-do that could be decorated with some pearl hair pins and strands. To make sure, she checked some pictures at the mirror to get an idea of what make-up styles were popular with the nobility. Lorien simply used enchantments instead of actual makeup, in a way that better matched one of her personas.

She summoned one of her own fans, a white feather one. “Ho ho ho, this is perfectly suitable for Lady Nessa!”

Sheila had taken a few small pieces of jewelry and a dress more suitable for a handmaiden. “Oh yes, it’s lovely my lady,” she said with a big smile. “Shall we cause some further chaos like this?”

“Of course, of course, let’s have some fun!”

They then went around the fortress and acted like a ridiculous proud lady and her patient but beleaguered handmaiden. Lorien made a lot of demands of the fortress workers, then wandered off so that they couldn’t find her. At one point, she ran into some of the workers she’d been talking with earlier that day. One of them was the first to find her suspicious. “Were you invited here?” he asked.

“Hmph, of course I was invited,” she said with a frown, shaking her fan at him. “We’re in a fortress that can only be accessed by sea! How could I even be here if I were not invited?”

“Oh, sorry, dear lady, I didn’t remember that,” he said, embarrassed.

“You’re a simpleton, but I can forgive you of that,” she said haughtily. Then she smiled. “But you know, Admiral Chantal is just so generous and kind, inviting us out here for a party, good food, and gifts. And all of her fine investments in my enterprises, ho ho ho!” She beamed while the workers had to keep themselves from frowning on hearing those lies. “You’re so lucky to have an admiral around here as wonderful and classy as she is, not like that uncouth barbarian Tarn that was here previously.”

“Quite lucky,” the worker said sarcastically, which she pretended not to notice.

She eventually made her way to the area where the party was going to be held, and at an opportune moment. Some golems were moving _The Painted Crown_ down to where it was going to be displayed. With them, Otto was setting out his work supplies as he didn’t intend to stop working until he had to for the party. Would he even relax and have fun at the party? That could be disappointing.

Since the party was tomorrow, there were workers rushing all over the place to get it prepared. Even ship crews who usually got out of grunt work were being recruited (or forced) into cleaning, decorating, cooking, and all the dozens of little tasks that needed to be done. One of the grunts waved at her, unfortunately before she got a chance to tease Otto a bit. “Hey, sorry, lady, but guests shouldn’t be here yet.”

“Excuse me!” she snapped at him, stamping a foot down so he could hear it. “Who are you to tell me where I should and shouldn’t be? I have more power within the world than you could ever dream of having. I could call upon a navy who could crush this squalid ramshackle fort you have here. Although thankfully for you little minions, I have great admiration of Admiral Chantal and won’t be doing so.”

“Milady,” Sheila pleaded, giving off the impression that she was trying even though she knew it wouldn’t work.

As she was being Lady Nessa, Lorien ignored that. “You ruffians could learn a lot from her, if you’d just listen to her wise and worldly ways.”

“She’s certainly worldly, but I wouldn’t go callin’ her wise,” the worker said. “She just got lucky, that’s all. Lately I’ve been thinkin’ we should’ve just sailed away and never came back when she let the ships sail last. Would’ve been better than dealin’ with you prigs.”

Lorien went up to shove him; the hoop skirt did help with that by knocking him to the floor, but she’d have to be careful about doing that kind of maneuver again. “Well now, you are an utter disgrace than. Where is your loyalty and honor, hmm? Or even sense. Chantal is one of my dear investors, I’ll have you know, and I will definitely be advising her to borrow some of my specially trained guards to put you all in line.” She then stormed away.

“M-milady!” Sheila called, running after her.

Once they were out in a hall, Lorien sighed. “Well that ought to stir up more dislike of the admiral, but it’s a pity I didn’t get to introduce you to the art wizard. He’s something else, I tell you, won’t bat an eye at any of my wiles. But he’s doing a good job frustrating the admiral too.”

“He was the dark-skinned guy, right?” Sheila asked. “Handsome fellow at least, once you look past the grubby work clothes. He’d clean up nicely.”

She laughed. “I’m sure of that, and everyone will see it tomorrow."

“But something was kind of weird about him,” Sheila said, seeming worried.

“Yeah, but I like his weirdness,” Lorien said.

The siren shook her head. “No, I mean, well I’m not questioning your tastes. But something about his aura rhythm seems really off for a human, especially for a wizard. It sounds awful quiet. But I don’t know what that means, just that I’ve never heard a wizard’s soul sound like that before.”

A quiet rhythm… well that was weird, but she wasn’t sure what to make of it either. “Anyhow, maybe we ought to stop by the kitchen and frustrate the workers there. Maybe borrow their ovens.”

“Captain?” Sheila asked in a low voice, worried.

When she nearly said they had good ovens for baking, Lorien stopped herself. Oh no, this couldn’t be happening. She was sure she’d pinned her pelt in place, but, she didn’t feel it against her hip now. And she wanted to switch over to a simpler outfit, do some cleaning and make some wedding plans. No, someone had her pelt now! But when she tried to say that, her mind wouldn’t let her. She couldn’t say anything bad about the one who held her pelt now, whoever that was. She’d do anything they said in her hearing too, no matter what it was. And if she didn’t like it or thought against that person, her own mind would fight back, forcing her to be perfectly obedient and outwardly loving to the one who owned her pelt no matter how she really felt.

She needed to say something that would let Sheila know what was going wrong, but couldn’t say it directly. “Let’s get back to the ship, this outfit seems far too flashy,” she said, not putting in the vain and boisterous attitude of Lady Nessa. And she smiled like she was forced to. “And I want to do some cooking for my love! Tee hee, I don’t know their name, but I’ll make them cookies to show that I’m a good girl for them.”

Sheila paled at her change of attitude, then hurriedly nodded and took her arm. “Yes, yes, let’s take you back to the ship. And you can make some cookies, that should be safe.”

Giggling, Lorien followed Sheila’s lead back to their ship.

* * *

Since Lorien was often out leading heists and raids (or handling them by herself), Kelpson usually took care of the day to day business of running their ship. It was fine by him. He didn’t have her skills for thieving, acting, pirating, or often just messing with people. On top of that, the captain had rescued him from a roaming freak show on the southeastern continent. That circus used to keep him in chains, with a cruel trainer that forbid him from speaking to customers or even most of the circus troupe. Kelpson had pledged his loyalty to her in gratitude for that.

Actually, many of the non-humans and even some of the humans that made up their crew had similar stories where Lorien rescued or recruited them out of bad situations. The mersharks had been in a tribe that had been hunted down by other oceanic races; Lorien had set up a farce invasion to allow the losing tribe to flee the war zone and then helped them find a place to settle back down. As a result, five of them had joined the crew. There was Sheila who had been beaten so badly that she had barely any strength for months, but Lorien still saved and recruited her. As much of a show-off as the captain could be, she was quick to help others and stand up for them.

He was reflecting on that as he was doing daily inspections around the ship when Sheila came on board, leading a fashionable noblewoman on board. However, she had the familiar scent of being a selkie, of being Lorien. The captain was humming lightheartedly, which could be an act. Except, Sheila looked worried. “Is something the matter?” Kelpson asked, looking over at them.

“Nothing at all!” Lorien said cheerily. “Everything’s wonderful!” Then she giggled.

“She’s gone domestic,” Shiela said, anxious and a bit fearful.

Looking at the captain, Kelpson felt alarmed at this news. He’d heard the story of how someone had stolen her pelt from her when she was a teenager, and then the previous captain of this ship had stolen the pelt from the original thief and sailed off with her. But he was certain that she’d never lost her pelt again after getting it back from the previous captain. “What happened?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, I thought we had her pelt pinned securely when we made this costume,” Sheila said. “We were then wandering around sowing more discord among the fortress crews when she got into an argument with a guy in the party area. There was a bit of shoving; I think that’s when she lost it, although she didn’t change until after we’d left the area a little ways. But, there were so many people there preparing for the party that I don’t have a clue who would’ve picked it up. I brought her straight here since she wants to make cookies, although she can’t tell me who has her pelt now.”

“I don’t know, but I bet they’re wonderful,” Lorien said in a dreaming voice. “Oh, but what kind of cookies should I make? I’ve been thinking and thinking, um...”

This could be a golden opportunity. If someone had her pelt, Lorien would happily give up everything she had to her new owner. She wouldn’t be able to fight back against their orders. Kelpson could leave her with the one who had her pelt, than leave with the ship and crew and make a name for himself as a pirate captain. If he could manage it, he could also take _The Painted Crown_ and potentially solve it to take the whole world as his own. He had seen the legendary painting once and it had given him such tantalizing thoughts just to gaze upon it…

~yeGo i t we

grm weGes? e

ne ~ m vudes

ivede ~amlh

hevlheth rtI

t irtvi Io

Yes, he could take everything for himself here… no. No, that would be wrong. He owed Lorien his life and freedom; he was not about to trade away her life and freedom for anything.

“Sheila, stay with her in case she figures out their name,” Kelpson ordered. “I’ll get a search party started to get it back.”

“Yes, sir,” Sheila said, accepting him as the ship leader while Lorien was incapable. Then she patted their captain’s shoulder. “You already saved this look, I remember. So let’s get down and switch to a costume better suited for baking. Then we can look over the pantry to see what kind of cookie you can make.”

“Sure thing!” Lorien said, letting herself be led again. She would recognize the trouble she was in; letting them guide and protect her was the safest bet.

“I hope we can settle this soon,” Kelpson muttered to himself as they went below deck. Then he called for any free crew members on deck to line up to start the search. It was going to be tricky figuring out who had Lorien’s pelt and getting it back without raising too much of a fuss. But he trusted the other crew members under her to not take advantage of the situation and try keeping her pelt for themselves.

If they did do that, then Kelpson would set them straight himself.

* * *

The thief’s stereotypical act as a noblewoman was a welcome break from all this fuss. Otto had gotten used to in-progress works being seen and discussed due to art classes, but bringing down _The Painted Crown_ when he was sure he was almost done with it was like showing his paintings to others for the first time. In fact, it was probably worse than back then. The golems could damage it, the pirates might disrespect it (since they had bad ideas about how to take care of art in the first place), or somebody might try to steal it yet again. He didn’t care what they did with it once he had it finished, but they should at least let him finish!

The worker that the thief shoved around walked off grumbling to himself. Meanwhile, another worker picked up something off the floor, something of a creamy-silver color that seemed like a full pelt of seal. “What’s this now?”

From the innate magic, Otto quickly recognized it as a selkie’s pelt. Having one of these nuts take the pelt was surely a terrible thing to the selkie. Although, what was it doing in the middle of the floor in the first place? Unless… could the thief be a selkie? Otto went over and said, “Excuse me, but that’s mine.”

“What the heck is it?” the worker said, thankfully handing it over.

“It’s a part of my work and unless you want a long lecture on what it does, we’ll just leave it at that,” he said. “Hmph, I told them to be more careful with my gear.”

“Well don’t be making a bigger mess of things, we’ve already got far too much to get done,” the worker said, then hurried on.

Now that he had it in hand, he found the magic in it familiar. Yes, this did belong to the thief. She must have lost it somehow in her scuffle. Due to what it was, it wasn’t something that could be put into magical storage. One couldn’t place living creatures into a storage space; the scene paintings were a different case, but he wasn’t about to put it into _The Painted Crow_ n. And while this was merely a discarded skin, the being it belonged to needed it in case she wished to return to a seal form. Otto already had a case down here that he’d brought his supplies in, so he carefully folded up the pelt and stuck it in the case.

Another worker disrupted him, pointing out some standing poles and curtains they’d put up around _The Painted_ _C_ _rown_. “Oy, we’ve got it all set up now. And the admiral expects it to be done in time for the party.”

“I am well aware of that,” he said, taking the case inside the curtained off area with him. He’d need an excuse to go find her. Although given how these kinds of things worked, she’d be drawn to find him sooner or later.

He then looked at the painting. On one hand, he should finish what he started. But on the other hand, something had changed. He’d read through the history of Kaprist’s fall, how civil war between the triplet princes led to the entire island being shattered into this lifeless sea of rocks and madness. And it was literally madness, all due to _The Painted Crown_. This wasn’t magical scenery to enjoy an artistic bit of fantasy. This was a painting of something that shouldn’t be, but it was. This painting spoke to people.

~touy w eevo

eecm~ eeu~fwhaY

ml wlnvotooth

ptuoloaYr p

emsoNedh ar eu

He really should finish what he started, even if it was an evil painting.

“Hey!”

Someone’s shout broke him from the trance of doing further work on _The Painted Crown_. “What?” Otto asked crossly.

“I’m mopping the floor, so I need you to move for a time,” the worker said.

That definitely wasn’t the thief, as he had the aura of a human. Thankfully, one of the stone golems who kept guard over him was nearby. “Fine. Golem, make sure he does not touch the painting, at all.”

It gave a coarse grumble, confirming that it had its orders.

“Pah,” the worker grumbled back. “Guess you can’t really trust anybody around here. Now scoot.”

Since he was being forced to not work, Otto picked up the case and headed out of the room. He double-checked to make sure the pelt was inside. And yes, it was there just as he’d left it. But as he headed to the docks, his mind began to stir. That golem had been the only one watching over him. He could simply hide somewhere, maybe hitch a ride with one of the nobles and find his way back to Port Isdale.

But that would leave _The Painted Crown_ unfinished.

But it was an evil painting, something that shouldn’t be completed.

But he couldn’t leave something he’d worked so hard on go unfinished.

Otto sighed to himself as he walked along the hall. Eventually, he realized that he didn’t have a clue about where he was in the fortress. He spent most of his time in the tower and Chantal kept blindfolding him to transfer him from the port to the tower. Besides, how was he supposed to find someone he didn’t know the name or real look of? He knew her aura signature, and he knew now that she was a selkie. He didn’t think selkies were native to the southern seas, so maybe if he simply tracked her magic that way…

He couldn’t locate her by magical means. Otto was pretty sure that he should be capable, but she was too far from where he was and he was at a reduced capacity outside of art magic due to the heart drought. In contrast, he was very certain that he could find his way back to _The Painted Crown_ if he decided to do that. It was trying to call him, after all.

Of course, there were always mundane means. After asking around where he would find Bonebeard’s ship, Otto made his way to the port. It had been built to shelter a fleet of ships from storms; it might even be useful as a dock for ship repairs and such. Otto wasn’t sure since he didn’t know much about sea ships or air ships or any of that. But, he was pretty sure that this dock hadn’t been built to accommodate so many ships. It could be the visiting nobles, but there were poorly constructed additions to house all of the ships in port now. And there were still ships docked outside protection.

Bonebeard’s ship was in the original docks, going by the ridiculous name of _Le_ _Chevel_ _Terr_ _ible_. The gangplank was down, but a mershark in demihuman form was standing guard there. “Halt, what’s yer business here?”

“I need to speak to your captain,” Otto said.

“What about?” the mershark asked. “And who are you? The art wizard?”

“Yes, I’m Otto,” he said. “My business is with her alone; I simply need to talk to her as soon as possible.”

“I don’t know you, and I need to know your business first,” the mershark said.

Fortunately, a cheerful call broke up the impasse. “Otto, here you are!” The thief bounded over, causing the mershark to step aside automatically. It did seem like this could be her natural self, being a small humanoid with long hair that could blend into the sea. As soon as she could, she threw her arms around him and snuggled in tight. “I’m so happy you’re here!”

Otto noticed that the mershark had narrowed his eyes at him. Another woman who had aura marks of being a magical creature came up behind the thief; she looked angry at him as well. For a moment, it worried him what they might do to him now. But it was trouble that could be easily be avoided.

“If you say so,” he said, pushing her back. She did comply and step back, still smiling. Opening up his case, he took out the pelt and gave it to her. “Here, you dropped this.”

She looked confused, likely caught between her magic compulsion and her actual will. “Huh? But you have it, so…”

“It belongs to you, so take it back,” he said. That should get past the compulsion.

“All right, if you want,” the thief said, taking the pelt back. She paused a moment as her mind readjusted to being fully in control of herself.

“You actually just returned the pelt?” the mershark asked, confused at that.

“It’d be a cruelty to keep it from her,” Otto said. “I have no need of it.”

“Hah, you are quite a guy,” the thief said, grinning. “Thanks, I owe you for this.”

“It’s nothing,” he said. And since she was interested in the painting, Otto added, “ _The Painted Crown_ is evil.”

“What now?” she asked.

“It’s evil,” he repeated. “It caused the war that destroyed Kaprist Island, then draws people back here and warps their minds. That’s what causes everyone to go crazy in some way. I don’t know what it is other than a potent source of discord. However, I’m still going to finish my work on it.”

Then he left because he did still have to finish that.

* * *

The painting was evil? Lorien thought that was strange. But once it was pointed out, it did make sense. Her thoughts had gotten strange whenever she got near the painting. And the painting had been something she’d seen when she first came to Kaprist. Even after she’d freed herself of her husband, she had decided to stay in the area thinking that she could solve the crown’s riddle. Being here had taught her to be a thief and a pirate.

But solving that riddle could lead to her owning the world, so who cared if it was evil?

Lorien headed into the party as Bonebeard as was expected of her. She checked his work tower in case he’d returned to change, but Otto wasn’t there. Had he decided not to wear his outfit? That would be disappointing. She went down to the party area since he should be near the painting at least.

With her detour, the party had started already. Nobles in grand costumes and pirates in what they thought were grand costumes were mingling and already having a good time. A buffet table had been laid out with quite a spread of goodies. However, Chantal had put two golems there as guards, so it wasn’t entirely a free buffet. The painting was covered by curtains and also guarded by golems.

Otto was near the painting outside of the curtains. And he was wearing his new robes; the hem drifted just above the floor and gold rings orbited around his wrists and hat. Among the crowd here, he stood out as the only one wearing an enchanted outfit. That was wonderful. Lorien headed right over to him. “Hey good-looking! You’re really hot today, har har har!”

“You again,” he said, although not in a hostile way.

“That’s all you’re gonna say?” she asked.

“I can either call you ‘you again’ or Bonebeard, so I’ll just use the former,” Otto said.

“Fair enough, I’ll give that to you,” Lorien said. “So how’s your evil panting doing?”

“It’s still speaking to me,” he said. “ _The Painted Crown_ will try to rule the world through a puppet who wears it. However, it only knows violence and taking things by force. This party is going to end in a bloodbath and we’re either going to die or become that puppet.”

“You don’t seem scared,” she said.

Otto shrugged. “I don’t care. I can’t care about it. And you’re under the allure of _The Painted Crown_ , so you don’t care either.”

“It will try to destroy everyone but the puppet?” Lorien asked. That honestly was something she should be worried about. But there was this feeling that it wouldn’t matter if she got the crown. Did everyone else in the room feel like this?

“They’re enemies to the crown’s puppet as far as it’s concerned. And as I said, it’s an agent of discord. This will be what it likes.”

“And you don’t care about that?” she asked. The lure of not caring either and trying to have the crown for herself was strong. But now that she was aware of it, it was a lot like the compulsions she felt when someone else held her pelt. It was something that you had to fight in a particular way so as not to aggravate the problem.

“I told you, I can’t,” he said. “I’ve only cared about the paintings for months now. And you for brief moments, but you were the only one to take some time to consider what might earn my favor rather than just brute forcing it like the others.” Otto then patted something on his sleeve, or perhaps under it. “That’s why I told you I couldn’t wear this. I had to rig a work-around to do so. In all the terror of getting kidnapped and fought over when I was helpless to get myself free, and then being given mindlessly simple tasks to one of my training, I know that I’ve fallen into heart drought.”

Oh, that would explain his apparently fearless devil-may-care attitude. It wasn’t that he was secretly a badass, but that all his ability to care or feel any emotions had been nearly drained dry. When poets and story-tellers told of evil wizards with dry shriveled hearts, they weren’t kidding as heart drought was a road to wanting to watch the world burn or something else just as terrible. Then this was probably nothing like he was really like. “How bad is it?” she asked.

Otto shrugged again. “You’ve seen what I’ve been like. It’s pretty bad, but I’m not entirely gone. Not that it matters, since the painting is trying to override all other thoughts.” He let his hands drop to his sides. “I did want to wait for you at this party, with the outfit you bought. But now that you’re here, I could just let go and people would start dying. It sees my heart drought as an emptiness it could fill.”

Lorien knew she needed to do something fast, but acting recklessly wasn’t good. She knew nothing of whatever being the painting really depicted. But since he’d repaired the painting and figured out its true nature, Otto would know a lot about that being. The heart drought and the compulsion from the painting was keeping him from doing anything to stop it, though.

But there might be something she could do still.

* * *

embitielwin it

n lwiemnl ielwi

iel n itembl

“It’s such a mindless thing, or a mind unlike ours,” Otto mumbled, the words of the thing throbbing in his mind. At any point, it could drill right in and leave the painting.

Meanwhile, the thief by him had been doing some thinking. Otto didn’t really care what she looked like, not even as this goofy skeleton pirate with an obviously fake beard. He did start to wonder when she grabbed his hand. “Maybe, but can it be patient a bit? Cause this is our date and there’s something really important I need to tell you.”

“What?” Otto asked, then got jerked away by the thief hurrying off away from the painting. “H-hey!”

&g ehb tou

g er~ ~ lo

nureekte eY

ioahrcemgb

oy WeaGon

“We can’t just leave,” he protested.

“We’re not gonna go far,” she said. “Just far enough for some privacy.”

“Whatever you want to say, it’s not going to matter,” he said. But she kept pulling him towards a hallway in the corner.

“It will matter, you’ll see,” she insisted. Once they were somewhat in the shadows, she pulled him close to wrap her arm around his back. The rings on his robes clattered as they tried to pull back and keep off the ground. “Did you know that my costumes make heavy use of illusions?”

Otto felt annoyed and disappointed in the question. “That much is obvious,” he said. For one thing, she had the warm breath of the living that an animated skeleton wouldn’t have. For another, it was clearly a body of flesh and bone embracing him, not one of only bones and magic.

She chuckled at that. “To you now, but it does mean that while I look like a thick skull and nothing more, I do still have lips.” Then she dove right in and kissed him on the lips.

And right away, he heard absolutely nothing from the painting, just a quickly fading feeling of anger. It was a sudden kick of fresh power to a badly deteriorated painting. Or maybe more like to a rusted machine, his heart wheezing and stuttering to feel things again. While he started crying from not being able to before, he embraced her tighter and tried to stay in that kiss as long as it could last.

Not that it mattered, since they were all about to die needlessly to something that thought itself a god who could steal the whole world simply because it saw it and wanted it.

Then the thief gripped his arms and pulled back to look right at him. “I don’t want things to end here, even if I don’t really know you and you don’t really know me. So what do we do to destroy this thing?”

Otto rubbed at his eyes, although his face was all wet from the tears. “Th-that was a nice effort, but it’s only a temporary restoration.”

“Well then we can’t waste time while you can be yourself and want to live,” she said. “You do want to live past today, right?”

“Yes,” he said, then took a deep breath. The being behind _The Painted Crown_ wasn’t of their world. But then, it had to restrict itself to manifest in their world. Thinking back over the power he’d experienced in and with the painting, he said, “If its painting had been destroyed before I recharged its power, it would have lost contact with us. But since I did, we need to get it out of the painting. That will leave it vulnerable unless it can spread its power throughout the world. While it only affects Kaprist, its presence here can be destroyed and its full self driven away. Beings like this might be terrifying, but they usually seek easy prey, leaving alone those who show that they are willing to fight back.”

“Good, so we just need to make a stand then?”

“It has to be a really good stand,” Otto said, some ideas coming to him. “I saw your ship, but didn’t really examine it. I did see that you had powered sails; how powerful are they exactly?”

The thief thought for a moment. “Well I can’t say exactly, but a few of my crewmen could. They’re Zebane Solar Crest Sails.”

“Aren’t those meant for airships, not sea ships like your own?” he asked.

She chuckled at that. “Well we haven’t had the opportunity to make a full overhaul yet, but the solar crests make her one of the swiftest and most powerful ships at sea. Just don’t take her on land, cause she makes for a terrible horse.”

He was about to say that was obvious, but then recalled the ship’s name. “That’s an awful joke,” he said.

“Well it’s the truth!”

“Anyhow,” he waved a hand to brush the issue of the joke aside, “can your crew handle sailing through abnormal storms?”

“I’d trust them in any condition,” she said. “Especially if I tell ‘em it’s do or die for all of us.”

Otto nodded. “That is the truth of it. And what kinds of weapons do you have on it?”

“That’ll go quicker if we talk to the techies, let’s go,” she said, keeping hold of one of his hands and dragging him off again. This time, he followed alongside her.

He would have to hold onto his restored emotions as best he could to let them know what the best plan of attack was.

* * *

Although the crew of _Le_ _Chevel Terrible_ abruptly left the party, none of the others celebrating noticed. Drinks were already flowing freely and some of the problems the fortress faced were being forgotten. But amid the laughter, chatter, and boasting, there was a background throb of greedy chanting that was barely noticeable. Everyone there heard it on some level, most subconsciously. But even those who became aware of it were so drawn to its message of power and being the one to subjugate the world that they didn’t let anyone else know they could hear it. They hoped that the voice meant that the crown was calling to them, about to choose them above all else.

Chantal couldn’t stand waiting and had the curtains moved away from the painting. _The Painted Crown_ looked a lot better now that it was repaired. In the center, the rainbow-colored crown shone more than any polished jewel. The darkness around it seemed to move, but it didn’t matter. It looked like she could just reach over and take the crown right from the surface. But if it was that easy, someone would have taken the crown already.

The art wizard had told her that the painting contained a few things aside from the crown and its stand: a note, a rusty dagger, some old coins, and many many bones. When she stepped inside the painting, there was a musty smell of a mausoleum full of seaweed to greet her. Chantal ignored the bones and retrieved the dagger and the note. Those should be the important things.

While the dagger seemed like it would snap immediately if she tried to do anything with it, the note was barely legible. This wasn’t good, she didn’t want to waste time on riddles! Maybe if she just tried to pry the crown off the bust with the dagger. It was in here, so it should have powers within the painting. Chantal found a spot to slip the point of the dagger under the crown and pushed it up.

The dagger snapped immediately; a piece of it cut right into her cheek. Chantal grumbled as the darkness around her moved, drawn to the fresh blood. Before long, she was obliterated into nothing but bones that would join the rest here. The Painted Crown was now free of its painting, a shining treasure surrounded by glistening onyx writhing shadows. But those in the room out to greet it only saw the treasure, the lure of ruling the world. They quickly tore into each other regardless of how they had seen each other before. Every death expanded its presence, allowing it to grow and consume the fortress.

It didn’t take long for no one to be left alive within the fortress. However, The Painted Crown sensed that the one who had empowered it was still living. The crew of _Le_ _Chevel_ _Terr_ _i_ _ble_ were all on their ship. A strange song encompassed the ship from a female creature singing an enchantment. To The Painted Crown, it was just noise. It called out to the ship’s crew, calling for its puppet to answer to its commands.

* * *

For this battle, Lorien had Kelpson take the helm. They needed to use Sheila’s voice to counter the voice of The Painted Crown, as well as to relay orders. The voice counter was most important for keeping Otto working with them. If the Crown got control of him, they would likely lose. And aside from that, Lorien needed Otto’s insight in case the situation changed. The siren song should keep him motivated too, which she hoped would be the case.

“Captain, the cannon team is ready!”

They were starting to hear enormous cracks and crashes from the main part of the fortress. “Good, fire away as planned!”

“The sails are ready!”

“Good going!” she called up to them.

“Not much room to maneuver now, but I’m ready to go,” Kelpson said from the helmsman’s control panel.

“We’ve got shields up, room shouldn’t be a problem for long,” Lorien told him. A dark tentacle shot through the dock walls, tearing up a number of ships between it and them. The magical shields lit up red as they blocked the attack. “Does that look right?”

“Yes, that’s in the range I calculated,” Otto said. He was with her in the control deck, while Sheila was some feet ahead so she could hear Lorien and project her voice around the whole ship.

“Good, then we’re going ahead,” Lorien said.

The waters swelled as The Painted Crown tore up the rest of the fortress to get to them. Overhead, the skies darkened with a marbled miasma sprinkled with blood red stars. Those stars and the iridescent crown were the only bits of light outside of their ship before long. They got swept back, which Kelpson used to get them moving in a circle around the being.

The Painted Crown lashed out all around them, causing the disturbed waters to fill with an immense amount of debris. They’d have to ignore that danger and pray that the magic shields were enough to keep them unharmed. After a moment, the spell cannons began firing. Otto had told them to use a particular set of spells; something about the combination of fire, water, sun, and time would disrupt The Painted Crown’s presence in the world. Its displeasure could be felt in its strange tones that were starting to break through Sheila’s song.

“How long do we need to keep this up?” Lorien asked Otto.

“As long as it takes, that’s all I know,” he answered.

Some of its tentacles began falling off into the water, but as it had so many it was hard to tell if that was really having an effect. After another minute of back and forth between the cannons and the tentacles, The Painted Crown suddenly split vertically, a gaping hole like a mouth that could swallow a city, lined with enough teeth the replace all those buildings and double their numbers. “If it’s gonna open its jaws, then make it swallow our shots!” Lorien called over to Sheila so she could relay the order.

“I hope that does it,” Otto said as the cannons slowed their volleys to redirect their aim.

The Painted Crown shifted the waves, trying to draw them right into its mouth. It got a mouthful of spells amplified by the cannons instead. Shrieking in pain, the creature swatted their ship away instead and swallowed up its own body. The miasma it called was swallowed up as well, leaving them with an unsettled sea of debris under a clear evening sky. The fortress was completely gone.

And that left them free to finally be themselves.

* * *

 _Le_ _Chevel_ _Terr_ _i_ _ble_ pulled into Port Isdale a couple of days after the destruction of the fortress of Helga’s Island. Otto was immediately placed in the care of the asylum under the care of the magic university, to be treated for his heart drought. Meanwhile, Lorien and her crew reported in to the port authorities. They admitted to being pirates, but took the claim that it was under the influence of the cursed painting of The Painted Crown. With the evidence of unearthly phenomena and what Otto had recorded about his restoration, the judges in Isdale deemed that the crew was pardonable as long as every member agreed to an arrangement of house arrest for six months to keep an eye on their mental conditions. They took that deal.

Without the influence of The Painted Crown, the ship left port six months later with only half of its original crew members. Lorien retired as the captain, handing the ship over to Kelpson saying that he was always better at the legit sailing business anyhow. Kelpson set off on a new career as the captain of a trading ship. With his experience in piracy, _Le_ _Chevel_ _Terr_ _i_ _ble_ quickly gained a reputation as one that the remaining pirates roaming the seas knew not to mess with. Most of those who hadn’t stuck with the crew sailed back off to other islands, shores, or parts of the ocean that they had originally called home before getting lured into Kaprist.

But a couple of them stayed in Port Isdale. Lorien and Sheila started putting together a song and comedy act to make use of their love of costumes and performances. Their wild tales of piracy, adventure, and the strange characters they met (or invented) along the way gained them an eager audience quickly. Eventually, they got an offer to become traveling performers, taking an entertainment airship to put on shows around the world. After a long discussion, Sheila accepted the offer, but Lorien declined it.

She was going to stay in Port Isdale, to keep watching over Otto’s recovery.

* * *

Even though Otto was finally back home, he was still doing painting restorations. It was something he cared about enough that his psychologist felt it was something he should keep doing through his recovery. It helped that he could work on more complex magical paintings, works that required a lot more mental work and research to get back in good shape. After a few larger projects, the local museum curator started raving about his work to other art collectors and gallery owners. It surprised Otto since he didn’t think he was doing anything particularly special.

It also helped that Lorien kept dropping in on him unexpectedly. She got into trouble with the asylum security in sneaking in through windows or past their watch at first. Every time she got questioned about it, she claimed that it was a habit and she didn’t mean anything bad by it. Eventually, she somehow struck a deal with them that let her enter the asylum any way she wanted as long as she reported in to the security center and told them how she got in. It was apparently ‘private inspections and consultations’ even though she didn’t charge them a fee for it.

“Are you charging other people for breaking and entering their private properties?” Otto asked her when she told him about it, suspecting her wording.

“I could!” she said brightly. “Though I should probably talk to them about it first or the police will be on my case about it too.”

“That would be appreciated,” he said, although he smiled at it.

“So can I help with the painting now?” Lorien asked. “You keep saying I would help, but we never get around to it.”

He nodded. “Sure, there is something you would help with, and that’s trying to confuse this painting. It’s in the other room.”

In the area he’d been given for his work space, there was a character scene painting hanging on the wall. Because they were made for people to walk straight into, such paintings were necessarily large. This one, _A Coffee Break With A Dragon_ , was about the size of a double-width doorway. It depicted a copper-scaled dragon curled up in its den, a human-sized table and chairs nearby with sturdy mugs for the coffee and a plate of small snacks. It was an interesting blend of wealth, power, and nature designed for a relaxing chat with a creature that few people would dare approach in reality.

“Ooo, so is the dragon just an elaborate set piece or is it someone you can talk with?” Lorien asked, excited for the possibility of the latter.

“This is a character scene, so it is someone you can talk to,” Otto said. “It’s not an actual being like The Painted Crown was. Instead, it’s like a carnival golem, something that has a script so it can tell stories and respond to conversations. And like the carnival golems, a critical test for a character scene is seeing how the actor behaves when its script gets broken. So far, this dragon simply gets bored and stays silent if I try to get it off script. I felt that you’d be better at breaking script so I can tell if that’s its only reaction or if a visitor might cause problems.”

She nodded and looked far too serious for this. “Oh yeah, I could do that. I’ll confuse them real good.”

“I’m sure you will,” he said, then pointed out a device attached to the painting. “I’ll be recording our conversation so I can analyze the script reactions and breaks, just so you know. Let’s go in and have a break with the dragon.”

“Okay then!” They walked inside together, holding hands.

As this painting was meant to entertain its visitors, they stepped into a warm and inviting scene. The scent of homey fire and coffee greeted them. Various trinkets and treasures were scattered about, displayed but not really arranged. Against the wall, the dragon lifted its head on seeing them enter. “Ah, my guests, welcome to my home,” she said gently, so as not to bare her teeth or claws. “Please sit down and enjoy yourselves; there is much we can talk about.”

“Thanks for inviting us,” Otto said, polite even though he knew this was a script. Magical creatures were to be respected, in part because of the potential danger they held.

Being a magical creature herself, Lorien wasn’t as inclined to be polite if she didn’t want to be. “Hi dragon! Do you have any tea today?”

“I’m afraid not,” the dragon said. “I’ve tried tea before, but I keep burning the leaves to a crisp. But I have gotten quite skilled at roasting coffee beans into a lovely brew. Give it a try.”

They continued talking while drinking the coffee (which was rather good for magical coffee) and Lorien kept trying to find something to confuse or annoy the dragon with. However, it kept being silent to anything its script didn’t have an answer for. Otto begun to suspect that it was the only response it had for that kind of situation. It might be believable given that it was a dragon, but it was quite chatty when it was on script. That made the silences such a glaring fault that it could bore guests. Even if it merely had a few added non-vocal responses, like closing its eyes for a time or acting like it would go back to sleep, that would help make it better.

When the dragon kept giving her silences to a series of questions, Lorien shrugged and sipped at her coffee again. “It doesn’t seem very animated unless it has a lot of responses for a subject.”

“Right, that should be changed,” Otto said.

Lorien scratched her neck, then said, “Actually, I’ve been thinking about something. I want to give you my pelt.”

“What?” Otto asked, shocked that she brought that up out of nowhere. Oddly enough, the dragon was staring at her too.

“Well I trust you with it,” she said. “You’re a good guy, enough that you’d return it even when you hardly cared about anything. Most men I’ve known would’ve just kept it and taken me for their own without hesitation. Besides, I already spend a lot of time with you, and thinking about you, so it seems natural to give you my most precious treasure.”

Before he could come up with a response to that, the dragon growled fiercely. “No you will not!” she shouted. Fire rapidly surrounded them and they got evicted immediately from the painting.

“Uh, rude,” Lorien said as she picked herself up off the floor. But other than some possible bruises from getting thrown out of the painting, neither of them were hurt at all.

“That’s the dragon’s response if you try to take any of its treasures,” Otto said, snapping his fingers to call his notebook and pen to him. This had to be noted. “It might be a mistake of the script if it reacts that way to someone trying to give away something treasured of their own.”

“Actually, that’s pretty believable out of a dragon,” she said.

“Good point,” he said. Once he finished his note, he looked back at her. “Were you trying to annoy the dragon with that?”

“No, I did mean it,” she said “I’d like to give you my pelt.”

As much as it had caught him off guard at first, the answer to that seemed plain enough. “No, I won’t take it from you,” Otto said.

Lorien tensed and seemed like she might cry, “Huh? Why not?”

Much like the dragon, she probably didn’t see it the same way he did. Otto put an arm around her to keep her from crying. “Look, I don’t mean anything bad in that; I’m not rejecting you. It’s because I love you dearly that I won’t take your pelt from you. Even if you’re doing it willingly, it would warp your will to always wanting to please me. And I don’t want to do that to you.”

“But...” she tried to protest.

“I’ll help you hide it so no one can steal you from me if that will make you feel better,” he said. “But it will stay as your possession. I’m not going to take you from yourself. If you wanted to marry me, then I’m happy enough with that. But you’ll marry me as my wife, not as my possession. And, I’ll be your husband in return.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean it that way,” she said, then hugged him tightly. “That would be better.”

“Good,” he said.

Lorien stayed hugging him for a moment, but then something made her giggle. “It’ll be great! Oh, but do you think you could make one of these character scenes with Bonebeard? Like in a sea shanty of a tavern where he joins people in boasting, lying, and being ridiculous? It’d be a lot of fun, more than this bore of a dragon!”

“That would be a really funny character scene,” Otto said. Something ramshackle like the pirate fortress. “You’d have to help me with making a good in-depth script for him; we wouldn’t want people to get bored around a skeleton pirate captain.”

“I already have tons of ideas and stories for that,” she said happily.

**Author's Note:**

> For the curious…  
> The eldritch text is actual English, not just random gibberish. Unfortunately, the font and formatting I use makes it even harder to read than I intended (which given that it’s dialogue from a mind-bending eldritch abomination, it isn’t that bad). I wrote it out backwards letter by letter down and to the right, which means it should be legible reading up and to the left. Between improper formatting and probable human error, I’ve decided to add this postscript to translate the few lines of The Painted Crown for those curious as to what it actually says.  
> This line is used twice, once to Lorien when she was looking at the painting and again to Kelpson when Lorien lost her pelt.  
> ~yeGo i t we  
> grm weGes? e  
> ne ~ m vudes  
> ivede ~amlh  
> hevlheth rtI  
> t irtvi Io  
> Translation: I see the world; I must have it. Give me the world. Give me everything.  
> This line is said to Otto when he realized that the painting was evil.  
> ~touy w eevo  
> eecm~ eeu~fwhaY  
> ml wlnvotooth  
> ptuoloaYr p  
> emsoNedh ar eu  
> Translation: You have the power of art. You have done well. Now you must complete me.  
> This line is said at the party, the words it chants to take control of those near it.  
> embitielwin it  
> n lwiemnl ielwi  
> iel n itembl  
> Translation: it will be mine it will be mine it will be mine  
> And this last line is when Lorien drags off Otto.  
> &g ehb tou  
> g er~ ~ lo  
> nureekte eY  
> ioahrcemgb  
> oy WeaGon  
> Translation: You belong to me. Get back here. Where are you going?


End file.
